


The Teenage Queen, the Loaded Gun

by hyperion



Series: Paris [3]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Family, Family Secrets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-26
Updated: 2011-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperion/pseuds/hyperion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Visiting Arthur's family, Eames uncovers the truth about Arthur's childhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Teenage Queen, the Loaded Gun

“Agatha! I need you to go Mom and Dad’s and steal the photo album,” Arthur whispered harshly into his phone. Eames had woken when Arthur got out of bed, and because he was a sneaky bastard by nature, he eavesdropped.

“No, _the_ photo album. You know the one…Yeah, that one…You owe me, Agatha…How many bodies did I help you bury in high school?... _Fifty_. There were fifty, Agatha, and we had to dig a mass grave for them. I helped you…Fifty bodies, Agatha! And they smelled horrible.”

Bodies? What the hell kind of shenanigans did Arthur’s family get up to?

“I don’t care. Steal it. Burn it. Bury it. Whatever you need to do. It just needs to disappear.”

When Arthur came back to bed a few minutes later, Eames could not help himself. “What bodies?”

Arthur stiffened almost imperceptibly. If Eames had not been so observant, he probably would have missed it. “What bodies?” Arthur echoed.

“You said you buried some bodies. Fifty, if I heard correctly.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“You must have been dreaming.” Arthur could not explain this. He would not explain this. So he denied, denied, denied.

“Is your sister a serial killer?” Eames asked.

“No. She’s an assistant district attorney.”

“Good cover for a serial killer.”

Arthur cuddled up to Eames, pulling the blanket up to his shoulder. “You have really strange dreams.”

***

Arthur’s mother and father were waiting for them at the airport when they touched down in New York. Eames could see that Arthur really did take after his mother. He was the same height as her, had the same eyes and nose, and had her slight frame. She kissed his forehead and stood back to take him in, eyes practically alight. Then she noticed Eames and came forward, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Oh, it’s so good to meet you. I’m Lydia, but you can call me mom.”

Eames was taken aback, and Arthur came to his defense. “Mom, you two just met. Don’t you think it’s a little soon to be putting him on the spot?”

“Nonsense. He’s the only person you’ve ever brought home, obviously you’re pretty serious about him. So,” she said to Eames, taking his arm, “we have a bit of a drive. Tell me all about yourself.” And she and Eames walked away to the parking lot, leaving Arthur and Andrew to get the bags.

“Your mother is a steamroller,” Andrew said to Arthur. “Felix isn’t going to know what hit him.”

“Is Agatha coming to dinner tonight?” Agatha usually worked long hours, but Arthur really hoped that she could come. They often ran interference for each other when their parents got into uncomfortable territory. Yes, if Agatha could come to dinner, she’d help him keep Mom from frightening Eames away.

***

“You!” Agatha hissed as soon as she walked in the door. Eames got the vague impression that she resembled Andrew before she grabbed Arthur and pulled him up from the couch and into the hallway where they could have a little privacy.

“What?!” Arthur demanded.

“Why are you gay? Why did you tell them? Don’t you ever think about me?”

Arthur wrenched his arm free of her grip. “What are you talking about?”

“Ever since I turned thirty, every pause in every conversation has been used to harangue me about settling down and having kids.”

“Me too,” Arthur said. “So what is your problem?”

Agatha tossed her head angrily. “Well, now that you’re gay, they seem to think that you’ll be too busy facing prejudices to have kids. I’m their last chance for grandchildren, apparently. I came over last night to get your stupid album and they talked to me for two hours about how you’re getting so serious with this Eames guy that you’re bringing him home, and it’s time for me to start thinking about my future too. By the time it was over, I was so mortified that I forgot to grab the photos.”

Arthur was with her until the last sentence. His whole mind blanked and all he could hear was, “I forgot to grab the photos.” “No,” he cried, running back to the living room. It was like the world was moving in slow motion as he rounded the corner to the living room. He could see his mother opening the photo album, the one with the green cover, so very slowly. He saw Eames’ face register surprise, and then a smile stretched his mouth wide and he barked out a laugh.

“And this is his first pageant,” Lydia said.

“I was an escort! Agatha needed an escort!” Arthur said frantically. But it was too late. Eames had seen. Eames knew. Eames would tell people.

“You were so handsome in your tux,” Eames said to Arthur, and Arthur could see the barely contained teasing in his eyes.

“I was doing Agatha a favor.”

Lydia looked at Arthur with a smile. “You were always such a good little brother. You made such a fuss at first, but you were on point the entire time, like you were born to do pageants.” Arthur sank down into a chair as Lydia told Eames, “He had so much fun, we started enrolling him in male pageants. He won so many of them. See?” she asked, turning a few pages, “Look at the size of that crown!”

“It was a scholarship program,” Arthur protested weakly.

“Does Arthur have any sashes?” Eames asked, just managing not to snort with laughter.

“Oh, yes,” Lydia said, closing the album and putting it on the table. “Arthur, dear, don’t look so miserable. This way, Felix. We use Agatha’s old bedroom for storage. Andrew’s mother gave us this hideous hat rack for a housewarming present, but it makes a great sash holder. We have so many, with two beautiful children in pageants,” she explained as she led Eames down the hallway.

Agatha started laughing as soon as her mother was out of sight. She had been standing out of the way against the wall, enjoying Arthur’s misery, and now she was doubled over, leaning against the wall to stay on her feet.

“Fifty cats,” Arthur accused. “Fifty dead cats. I helped you liberate them from the school. I broke into the science lab. I squeezed myself through that tiny window because your boobs were too big to fit. I did it for you. Because you didn’t want to be part of a society that killed cats just to dissect them. Because of your bleeding heart. I helped you dig a grave for fifty cats. I had an allergic reaction to the formaldehyde. I thought I was going to die. For. You. And you couldn’t even steal one photo album for me?”

Agatha slid down the wall, still laughing, until she was sitting on the floor and hugging her knees. “I am so sorry, Arthur, but that was hilarious.”

Arthur watched her catch her breath, incredulous. “I’m going to tell Mom and Dad that you told me that you don’t want to ever have kids. You don’t even want to adopt. I’m going to tell them that you are looking into sterilization.”

“You wouldn’t!” Agatha gasped.

“Yeah, I would, because it would be _hilarious_.”

***

Arthur made it to dinner without any more upset. He was rather relieved, but also suspicious: Eames hadn’t said a word about pageants since coming back to the living room with Lydia, but Arthur could tell Eames was planning something. Arthur knew that dinner could be dangerous, so he sat very close to Eames. Andrew had made steaks, and he had grilled mushrooms for Agatha.

“So, Eames,” Agatha said casually, “have you ever considered becoming a vegetarian?”

“No, I haven’t,” Eames said, cutting his steak and bringing a bite to his lips. “Why?” he asked, staring directly into Agatha’s eyes as he pulled the steak off the fork and began to chew.

Agatha sliced her mushroom carefully. “Because you care about animals and you think factory farming is a horrible practice that leads to sick animals being slaughtered needlessly for food when you can have an alternative diet?”

“Generally, yes. But I’m no innocent. I did threaten a camel once with a good roasting on a spit.”

Agatha chewed her food slowly, considering. “You’re lying.”

“He’s probably not,” replied Arthur.

Andrew tilted his head. “What were you doing with a camel?”

Eames took a sip of his water before answering. “Well, I was with the Army, you know. And we were on leave, and we were drunk. I don’t exactly remember all of the details, but we broke into a zoo. One thing led to another and a camel tried to eat my hair. It’s a common story, really.”

Agatha and Arthur both tensed at his answer and looked between their parents.

“Never would have happened in the Navy,” Lydia hummed.

“My cousin joined the Navy,” Eames said before the subject could be changed. “He took a tour of the Mediterranean and actually rode a camel. I can’t remember if we rode our camel.”

“The Navy,” Lydia said wistfully.

“Agatha doesn’t want kids,” Arthur blurted out before there could be an Army vs. Navy battle at dinner.

“Arthur!” Agatha cried. There were also shouts of dismay from Andrew and Lydia. Eames watched as Agatha’s expression went from betrayal to stone cold shut down. Her hands were flat on the table, shoulders squared, as she ignored her parents and glared at Arthur. “Are you sure that’s what you meant to say, Arthur?”

“Pretty sure,” Arthur said coolly.

Agatha smiled serenely, turning to her mother. “Mom. I was talking to Felix earlier today and he said that meeting you and Dad,” she turned and smiled at Andrew, “has him and Arthur thinking about their future together. They’re researching adoption now. Isn’t that great?!” she asked excitedly, grinning at Arthur.

There was silence at the table for about three seconds, and then Andrew and Lydia both jumped up from their seats and engulfed Arthur and Eames in hugs, babbling their excited encouragements to the men and to each other. As suddenly as they came, Andrew and Lydia broke apart, staring each other down. “Crackerjack onesies!” Lydia cried, racing out of the room so that she could turn on her laptop and order Navy-style clothes for her apparently impending grandchild.

“No!” Andrew shouted, chasing her. “Army Improved Physical Fitness Uniform or he’s going to be naked!”

Agatha dug into her mushrooms again, practically patting herself on the back at her genius.

“Fifty. Cats. Agatha.”

Agatha shrugged and continued eating.

“You know, you might want to go tell mom that you were lying before she has the chance to check out. Because you’re going to have to deal with her broken heart when she realizes that there are no babies coming soon, and it’ll be a lot easier for her to come to terms with it if she doesn’t have a Navy onesie to cry over.”

“Oh, shit,” Agatha moaned. “Fine. I hate you.” She put her fork down and left the table to go stop her mother and father from getting too carried away.

Victorious, Arthur put his head on Eames shoulder and enjoyed the quiet. “Ready to run away yet?”

Eames laughed, “No, no. You’re family is wonderful. Plus, I have to steal one of your sashes before we leave.”

“Should I even ask?”

“Oh, pet. I want to see you wearing nothing but the sash.”

Arthur smiled. “Only if you never share your knowledge of my past indiscretions in any way with anyone. Because I will have to kill you otherwise.”

“I’d rather cut out my own tongue than miss seeing you in that sash.” They ate in silence for a few minutes before Eames added, “I really did have a talk with Agatha today. She seems to have some vague idea that our jobs might be criminal. Odd that she’d find dancing criminal.”

Arthur shrugged. “I told her that I don’t work in her jurisdiction, so she shouldn’t worry about it. But she’s going to worry, of course. She’s tough and smart and she won’t let me get into any trouble if she can help it. Agatha keeps saying that the law will catch up with the technology one day, but I figure we have a few years at least before we’re forced into a retired life of marriage and adoption.”

Eames kissed Arthur’s temple. “You say the sweetest things when I’m not expecting them. When we get married, can we move in with your parents? They’re fantastic.”

“If you can survive the Army versus Navy football games, I suppose so. But that’s really going to cut down on our loud, kinky sex.”

“Shouldn’t matter. Not being able to have sex is what got us here in the first place.”

Arthur pushed back from the table so he could turn in his chair and wrap his arms around Eames, kissing him. He didn’t mind when Agatha returned to the dining room and catcalled, or when his parents came back and stopped arguing over what branch of the military to clothe their future grandchild in. He was home with the people he loved the most, and Eames was more than snarky enough to keep up with them.

**Author's Note:**

> Title by The Killers.


End file.
